


Bad Things Happen Bingo

by Anonymous



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Friendly Fire, Gen, Kick them while they're down, Mercy Killing, surrender
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2020-08-09 23:15:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20125450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: A collection of drabbles for Undertale Multiverse based on Bad Things Happen Bingo.Tags are subject to change. Extra warnings will be given at the beginning of each drabble if needed.





	1. Prompt list

My official Bad Time Bingo card.

Will be updated as prompts get filled!

P.S. Suggestions are welcome but no promises on them getting used.


	2. Friendly Fire (Ink, Dream, Blue)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Friendly Fire
> 
> Positivity magic isn't always so positive.

You know those days, when things just don't go your way?

Like when your insane brother chooses one of the darker universes to corrupt even more?

Or when a coordinated stand against your brother's minions gets messed up, because they'd somehow managed to drive your team apart?

Or when you try to help out a friend and shoot at an enemy, but you get hit from the side, and your arrow grazes your friend's shoulder instead?

Yeah, it was one of those days.

And just when he thought it couldn't get any worse...

"Dream!" came Blue's distressed call.

Dream snarled, forcing Killer back with a well-aimed swing of his dagger, and glanced over his shoulder.

For a moment his mind refused to process what he saw.

You see, his arrows had a special quality to them: they were extra damaging for any negatively-polarized magic. Meaning, the bad guys tended to howl in pain from even a slightest scratch, and they seemed to have an even more agonizing effect on Nightmare. However, the one time they were fighting for Outertale and he accidentally nicked a hand of the local Frisk, they hurried to assure him it felt no worse than a cat-scratch. Later Blue — bless his soul — even scratched himself with his arrow as an experiment and claimed that he'd had papercuts that hurt more — thus leaving Dream reassured.

What Dream failed to consider was just how his arrows would affect a soulless being.

Now he got a chance to find out.

Ink was curled up on the ground with his back to Dream, shuddering and heaving. Blue stood over him, doing his best to keep Horror and Dust away from his defenseless friend. But, having lost a huge chunk his mobility — his greatest asset in battle — the poor Swap was barely holding on.

Dodging a slimy tentacle that tried to make use of his distraction — and stabbing it with an arrow for good measure — Dream charged towards his struggling friends, followed by a raspy agonized scream. He ducked under a knife, scared Horror away from Blue's side with another arrow and hurried to drag his teammates away through a teleport.

They'd lost.

Dream didn't get much time to ruminate. Now that he no longer had the fight to distract him, he heard _that_. Ink's wet, shuddering breaths. Shivering, Dream looked down at his friend. His eyelights were out, and ink bubbled at his teeth, as the artist struggled to breathe.

"Ink?" Falling down to his knees, Dream hastily put Ink's head in his lap and turned it to the side, hoping that would help with the choking.

It didn't.

"Ink!" Gasping for air as panic set in, Dream groped at himself, at the floor, at Ink, as if he could somehow grasp a solution that way. "Please! Oh, please, don't…!"

Blue was by Ink's side then, trying to pour healing magic into the shuddering body with zero success. Soulless magic rejected the kindness-driven support.

Ink choked on a cough, and then his attempts at breathing got fainter.

That's where Dream lost it, pouring his own magic forth, trying to do _something_. The emotional cocktail had the effect of a sucker punch. The artist gave one more cough and, as if a dam was broken, threw up copious amounts of ink.

The black liquid spread over the floor and stained Dream's pants and robe, but he couldn't bring himself to care — not when his friend's breathing finally got stable.

"Ink?" He leaned over to look onto the other's face. Faint white pinpricks didn't grace him with a glance, but one of the sockets closed on reflex, when a golden teardrop fell too close to it. When had Dream started crying?

"You're gonna be okay," he grasped Ink's hand and held it firmly, speaking mostly for his own benefit. A watery smile tugged at his mouth.

"You're going to be okay."


	3. Mercy Killing (Error, Ink)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Mercy Killing
> 
> It's all fun and games until someone gets hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra warnings: character death, implied/hints of body horror

To Ink, getting Error to reboot was akin to a sport. Finding new ways to make the glitch hit that threshold, developing strategies to achieve it faster and faster… Ink turned it into an art form. And it was fun.

Until it wasn't.

Until, during a reboot, Error's body, spasmed, covered in glitches and, once the progress bar reached 100%, Ink couldn't recognize the mangled mess the glitches left behind. That red and broken thing looked vaguely like an arm — in the Picasso kind of way — but the rest of misplaced colours and odd shapes… Ink couldn't even begin to guess what those things were supposed to be.

And then the _thing_ screamed.

It was an anguished, panicked, _broken_ sound. Ink flinched, backed away, unsure what he was looking at. The _thing_, apparently, was just as confused, flopping on the ground uselessly and screaming.

Screaming.

_Screaming._

Ink's eyelights shrank, losing any sense of shape, he gasped wetly, tried to swallow down the feeling and turned to the side, when his attempt failed.

The screeching went on, without stopping, while he regained his bearings and rubbed the ink off his chin. Did this _thing_ even need air to scream?!

When he turned back to look at it, the shapeless blob of glitchy mass still kept moving in place, twitching in agony.

He reached for his paintbrush. He needed to fix this. He needed to fix Er-

Ink stilled his hand.

Was _this_ Error anymore?

…

No. No, it really wasn't, was it?

Ink did take out his paintbrush. Only when he held it up, it wasn't to fix things.

It was to stop the sick from spreading.

And just like that, with a single strike — with a single dose of viscous paint — the _thing_ was gone, taking it's screams with it and leaving only blessed silence behind.

Ink let out a quiet sigh.

"I'm sorry."

He almost meant it this time.


	4. Kick Them While They're Down (Error, Fresh)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Kick Them While They're Down
> 
> Error gets an ending he wasn't expecting.

When does one end a story?

When the villain is defeated, and the hero gets all the recognition and love he deserves. Or, if you're in a mood for a downer ending, when the hero dies, and the evil is celebrating its triumph.

But not when the hero is stuck in a cell like a complete loser.

Error snarls and kicks a wall. The soft padding gives a quiet squeak at the measly effort. The glitch screams in frustration. The sound is swallowed as well.

Error lets his head fall back onto the floor — padded, just like the walls. The tiny burst of rage took what little energy he had in him, and now he lies there, panting and faint. And still so unbelievably angry.

This is what his life is now. Silence and this padded room and anger — and not enough energy to rip this damned place to shreds. It's been this way for a while, though he has no idea how long it's been. Ever since that ungrateful bastard of a Blueberry led him into a damned ambush. The gall of that asshole!

Error finds the strength for another howl of fury.

That damned son of a glitch! And now Error's stuck here, in a padded, magic-dampening room, alone. Well, unless someone comes to visit — like that bastard Blueberry or Ink, or…

"Hey, broski! How're ya doing?"

And just like that Error's mind is flooded with dozens of voices — discussing, arguing, greeting… They came with Fresh. They've stayed silent for so long, yet they all piped up the moment that parasite got here. There's some sort of significance to that fact, though Error can't quite grasp what it is.

"The funk do you want?" Error growls, squinting at the vague outline of Fresh's face in the narrow window of the cell's door. His eyesight isn't good enough to make out the features, but he doesn't have to see that annoying smile to know it's there.

"Just checkin' on mah favorite broseph dere!"

"The FUNK. Do you. Want?" Error spits out, enunciating each word as well as his glitching allows.

"Eh-heh. Saw right through me, did ya?" There's some motion on the other side of the glass — shaking of a head, probably? "Da rad dudes upstairs asked meh to."

Error squints at him, ready to repeat the question — a-fucking-gain! — when the medley of voices clues him in to who the colourful bastard is talking about. So the question changes, "Why the funk would they talk to you?"

"A few of dem been wonderin' how yer goin' post-epilogue. But ya story's done so…" Fresh makes some gesture Error can't quite make out.

"What do you mean, 'my story's done'?"

"Oh." There's a change to his tone — the fake smile is gone — and that seems more unnerving somehow. "Ya don't know."

"Don't know what?!" Error is steadily losing what little patience he's got left.

"Ya story's done, broski," Fresh replies, and the glaringly bright letters on his glasses are gone as well now. "It's done for ya." He thinks for a moment and clarifies, "For da you dat's you that is."

"That's bullshizz!" Error shoots back, but this hits weirdly close to what he was thinking just a few minutes ago, and… "There are still abominations to weed out!"

"Dat's da funny thing," Fresh chuckles. He sounds nervous. "Dere are other Errors, in other… places. Dere're useful and all-out rad for da worlds. But dey don't wanna be. But you do," Fresh twitches then in a way that's wholely unfamiliar, "yet whatcha do is useless and mega-unrad here."

"…What?" Gears start turning in Error's head. He's insane, after all, not stupid. The voices hush to whispers, as if to let him think.

"What I'm saying dere," Fresh straightens his glasses — blank still, "is dat dis Multiverse doesn't need ya, broski."

The confirmation is all Error needs to lose it. He screams then, until a reboot pulls him under.

When he comes to, Fresh is nowhere to be seen. The voices are gone as well. Error screams again. This time he's calling the voices, trying to provoke them into talking.

When that fails, he screams some more — something unintelligible — as he kicks at everything around him.

And then, when he can't scream anymore, when he's empty of the helpless rage, he curls up on the floor and CRIES.


	5. Surrender (Nightmare)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Surrender
> 
> Nightmare learns to play nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra warnings: bullying, physical abuse

"What are you doing here?"

By now Nightmare was so used to being avoided that the question alone was enough to startle him. Heck, usually people didn't even answer his own questions, so why would they talk to him first?

"I'm… checking out the village," Night said, turning around. He'd never been around these parts, and Dream was agreeable enough to stay behind by the Tree — even though he smiled and rolled his eyes at Nightmare's request — so the older twin took this chance to explore a bit.

He found this particular street deserted — made sense, since it lay far away from both the market and the river. It seemed he wasn't alone here after all.

"I…" The kid faltered, when he realized that "not alone" meant three humans and a monster, all probably in their teens. Still, he put on his best smile. Everyone loved when Dream smiled, and these people talked to him first, so maybe they'd like him too? "I've never been here before."

The group shared a few looks among themselves before all of them returned to staring at Nightmare again.

"It's really nice here!" Night tried once more, struggling to keep his smile from slipping.

"Where's Dream?" one of the teens piped up.

Welp, there went that smile. Of course, they'd want to talk to Dream and not him.

"He's back at home. It's just me."

He expected them to grow bored and disdainful and leave him alone, but all the eyes were still glued to him. And now those stares seemed more… intense.

"Uh… Is something… wrong?"

There were some murmurs exchanged in the group — he couldn't hear what they were saying exactly — and then he got his answer.

It came in the form of a heavy punch to the jaw that sent the skeleton kid flying to the ground.

There was a moment of silence, then, emboldened by the first strike, the whole group sprung into action, diving at Nightmare like birds of prey.

What they didn't account for was how the guardian's fight or flight reflex was stuck firmly on "fight". The first assailant — a lizard monster — was able to land a blow to the top of Night's head — which, surprisingly enough, didn't do much damage despite the malicious intent. The kid responded with a heavy jab to the stomach, making the lizard curl over. The next attacker to get close was kicked firmly in the knee, making him flop face-first onto the ground. The one after him was relatively short and got a kick to the teeth. Then followed more punches and kicking and biting.

It took less than fifteen seconds of the manic response for the group to realize they bit off more than they were willing to chew and back off. They kept Nightmare surrounded though, but put some distance between themselves and the livid guardian of negativity.

They were all panting, looking him up and down — sizing him up, Nightmare realized — but none moved to restart the fight. There was no opening for Night to leave either though.

A stalemate.

They were going to leave him alone eventually… right? That's what Nightmare kept telling himself, at least.

He was about to ask them to let him pass, when…

"Bet the other one wouldn't put up a fight."

The kid whipped around to face the teen who had spoken, eyes wide. What was that supposed to…

"Yeah, he's talking about your brother," said the guy who threw the first punch, a grin slowly growing on his face. "If you're going to be difficult, he surely wouldn't."

Nightmare's spirit sank. "What… what do you mean?" Maybe he didn't get that right? Maybe that was one of those "common expressions" he didn't know?…

"See, the thing is," the leader of the group went on, "negativity's not fun. No one likes it you know. But it exists, and one of you has to take responsibility."

That didn't make much sense to Nightmare, but before he could voice that, the guy smirked, baring his teeth and leaning forward:

"If you're not gonna do that, then your brother will."

The tiny guardian froze, eyes wide and shoulders tense. They couldn't… They wouldn't… "W-what?"

"If you're gonna fight us, your brother gets it, moron," another teen answered before cackling, and the others joined him in laughing.

Nightmare looked at them, looked into their eyes, hoping to see that it was just a weird joke. People did that sometimes, saying awful things they didn't really mean just for a laugh. He found no sign that it was the case though.

Little by little, spurred on by the unrelenting laughter — with some insults thrown in now and then — Nightmare unclenched his fists and let his hands fall by his sides, fierce glare glued to the leader of the bunch.

The laughs died down slowly, and the leader met his stare head on, smirked lopsidedly. The guardian never looked away, even though he was shaking badly — whether with fear or with anger, he wasn't sure himself.

"You won't hurt him," Nightmare near-whispered. People were nice to his brother, and these ones would be too. They wouldn't dare… They-

"Someone's gotta pay," the teen reiterated and shrugged. When the kid did nothing, he prompted, "Well?" with a knowing smirk on his face.

Nightmare took a deep breath, exhaled — _better him than Dream_ — and slowly hung his head in defeat.

There was a beat of silence, where even time itself seemed to still. Then, a moment later, the teens descended on him.

He took the first hit standing, forced himself to remain upright — and still, _oh, he had to remain still_. Then someone swiped at his feet, and just like that he ended up on the ground, whimpering — _not screaming, don't scream, please, don't scream, or more of them come_ — and covering his head, as kicks and fire — fire magic? — rained on his body.

His head was ringing by the time it was over. Was it over?… He wasn't sure, but they weren't hitting him anymore. He looked up, and the leader of the bunch must've been saying something, but Nightmare couldn't make out the words over the noise in his head.

The human punctuated his speech with spitting on him —it landed on his shoulder — and then all four of them were off, laughing.

Nightmare wanted to run, wanted to get away as fast as possible, before they could reconsider and come back. But he was hurting all over…

And Dream was back at the Tree.

Alone.

That thought was enough to make him push through the pain, get up and head home as fast as his limping gait would allow him.

Dream was absolutely fine, though rattled by the sorry sight that was his brother. Night dismissed all of his fussing with a simple, "I fell", and his twin seemed to buy it. Didn't stop Dream from asking more questions though — no doubt trying to come up with ways to keep his brother from "falling" like that again.

Nightmare used that worry to keep his brother by his side for as long as possible, keep him away from the village. Until Dream escaped his company one day, when he was asleep. And when he returned…

He was just fine.

Happy.

Chatty.

Unharmed.

"Just as long as you behave," the human reminded Nightmare next time the kid ended up cornered alone.

And so…

Nightmare behaved.


End file.
